


Bloodstained Moon.

by Living_Snailures



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, whoops all angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Living_Snailures/pseuds/Living_Snailures
Summary: Under the light of the bloodmoon, The hunter loses something precious to him
Relationships: Gilbert/The Hunter (Bloodborne)
Kudos: 16





	Bloodstained Moon.

The hunter stalked the streets that he knew like the back of his hands despite being an outsider to Yharnam, The night of the hunt he had found himself on has been long, and through trial and error he’d walked these streets hundreds, if not thousands of times. To his curiosity leading to his death many more times than he was proud to admit, To his bad habit of visiting a certain man whose voice cut through the darkness that filled his mind like the moon dispersed the clouds in the sky. He knew these streets blind, by the sound of his boots made upon the bloody cobblestone.

Walking by the sickly red light cast by the moon, He couldn’t help but smile under the mask, as he thought of the man whose window he often found himself dawdling at, trying to soak up as much of his voice as he could before he would be once more cast into the depths of hell that Yharnam hid. He found himself wandering towards the window, desperately needing to hear the man's voice after everything that had previously happened.

The crow-feathered hunter who he considered a friend despite their short time knowing her, was dead. Killed by another crow ordained in the garb of Cainhurst, and the badge she’d pressed into his hands with bloody fingers weighed heavy on his coat. She had “Gifted” him her title, a hunter of hunters, and the curse that title brought with it, and then she had died, lying in a pool of her own blood as he held her hand, It was all he could do.

He’d never used blades such as the ones he now found himself in possession of now, But with his whirligig saw out of commission, they had come in handy. 

He found himself climbing the stairs leading to the small clearing where Gilbert’s window lay, excited to hear the man again. He did not expect to be set upon by some unseen beast, feeling teeth and claws easily tear through his shoulder. A harsh cry left his lips, as he rolled, kicked the beast in the ribs and reached for the blades that would grant some mercy for this poor lost soul, some poor fellow who had lost his mind to the blood.

He stood covered in blood, Panting from the effort of the rather quick fight, He wiped the blade clean on his trousers, and turned towards the window, Gilbert must have heard the beast, and he wanted to inform him it was now safe. Instead, He felt dread building in the pit of his stomach, as he looked towards the window that had cast such a light previously for him.

He stood in front of the remains of Gilberts window, metal bars twisted and bent like some mad animal had clawed its way free, and broken glass covered the ground in front of it. He hadn’t noticed it in his struggle with the beast, more focused on surviving than anything else. But now he stood in the aftermath, His guiding light burned out and  _ he was soaked in his blood. _

“Oh, Gilbert. Oh, my precious Gilbert.”

Voice shaky, he felt his body tremble as he slowly approached the body of the beast, rolling it over and looking at it's mutilated and horrific face, But somehow, there were signs of the man he loved, scraps of a cardigan and the familiar greying hair he’d longed to run his fingers through. Memories of laughter and tea filled his brain as tears spilled down his cheeks, as he fell backwards, hands releasing the still corpse of the things that had once been Gilbert. 

He brought his hands to his face, covering his mouth with them to futility stifle the sobs that he felt clawing their way up to his throat, But in vain as hiccupy sobs escaped his lips. He’d not allowed himself to cry, for it would have no meaning and there was no point in crying for the departed as they were free from this nightmare. But here he sat, sobbing like a child at the body of what had once been his lover.

Curled up around himself under the sickly red light of the full moon, He wept for his lost love, Until all his tears had been spent, and all that remained was the exhaustion and the dull numb feeling in his chest. 

He didn’t cast another glance towards the thing that had once been Gilbert, instead slowly pulling himself to his feet, eyes looking towards the moon with a fierce expression that glittered with forgotten tears. 

“I will make this right. I promise you.  _ I promise you. _ ”

With biting words he gathered his bloodstained coat around himself, and turned on his heel, leaving only broken glass and the remains of his heart in his wake.

**Author's Note:**

> Is GIlbert the reason my good hunter becomes a great one, Yes.   
> Oliver makes bad life choices sometimes.


End file.
